


Trust Issues

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Mental Anguish, Regret, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash keeps being reminded of the friendships strained for one reason or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Issues

“Everyone has trust issues, Agent Washington.” General Doyle told him after Locus left the room, making another visit from the initial one when Doyle had noticed their captivity. “You just have to find a way to carry on and ensure that the ones you still trust don’t betray you.”

 

“Thanks, I think.” Wash flexed his hands similarly as he had after the cuffs were removed the last time he was in this room.

 

“It is my pleasure, Agent Washington. Either way, it will be a lovely to work with you and to have you with us in the Federal Army of Chorus.”

 

“Yeah.” The uneasiness in Wash’s voice was not noticed by General Doyle, or if he did notice, he did not give any indication. “I’m going to go talk with the others now.” Wash’s feet carried him from the other man, across the base to where Lopez, Donut and Sarge were currently staying.

 

Wash hadn’t told them about Freckles. He had decided to keep the heart and mind of the attack mech a secret, mainly due to their displeasure from being around him before they had been brought to the Federal Army headquarters. The back of his head still pained him from where Dr. Grey had been messing with his neural implants. He found over the last few nights that Locus’ voice echoed to him before he fell asleep, the deep growl reminding him that he was a soldier. He tried shaking the thoughts away, but it only caused sleep to evade him further because his attempts to keep Locus’ words at bay always brought memories to the forefront. Memories that were his, of his teammates from Project Freelancer. Memories that weren’t his, of a blonde woman and a red-headed little girl playing before his eyes.

 

“Wash, have you figured out what our plan is going to be to go rescue the others?” Donut asked, hoping that the grey soldier had formed a plan.

 

“Not entirely. I just know that we need to get to where they are before Felix decides to do something to them that could keep us from coming back with anything but unmoving armor.” Donut lowered his ead at the prospect of their friends already being dead. “For all we know, they’ve been dead for a while and Locus is using us pawns in their war. They probably are just using us anyway, but I’m not sure what good we can do for them.”

 

“Whelp, all we know is they have our guys and we need to get over there, beat the crap out of anyone in our way, and take out guys back.” Sarge pounded his fist into his hand for emphasis.

 

“Gran. Los planes de idiota para llevarnos a nuestras muertes.” Lopez’s eyeroll would have been heard through his tone if anyone could understand him in the first place.

 

“I know Lopez. We can do it is we try!” Donut added. Lopez shook his head in response.

 

Wash thought over their situation. In all reality, there was a good chance they would die. Realistically, they all should have been dead long before. Something about this rag tag group had made it this far, but Wash was unsure of how much further they could go.

 

“How about this: we get some sleep. We plan our escape tomorrow. During lunch shift change, there are so many of the Federal soldiers that aren’t paying attention to us or anything that we do during shift change. I would suggest stealing some armor and stowing ours in some crates and escape that way, but I feel that if they are alive and they come for us first, they would shoot us on sight.”

 

“Or they would make gunshot noises with their mouths while pointing their rifles at us,” Sarge added.

 

“Yes. Or that,” Wash sighed.

 

\---

 

Wash secured the lock on his room at the Federal base, thankful to have the evening to himself. Along with the Freckles chip, Wash found himself with his own room, while Sarge, Donut and Lopez had to share a larger room. Wash wondered at first why he was being kept separate from the others until Dr. Grey popped in for a moment to explain his situation. She told him he was sequestered in case she had to check on his implants again. He grew wary of her again, touching the cropped hair at the back of his head and scratching at the skin around the implant. She claimed medical reasons, and he chose not to question it.

 

Communication was still blocked in his helmet, presumably to keep the New Republic soldiers from finding out their locations and storming the base. No, they had to know where they were. Scouts were spotted frequently, based on the notches Wash had noticed on the bicep of Locus’ right arm. He hoped that’s what those scratches in the armor were for. Locus made him uneasy. Like the Director had, but with more malicious intent.

 

He had shed the outer plating to his armor, stripping down to his body suit. Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes in what felt like the first time in years before snapping back open. So many things left themselves open now they had been separated and he feared they wouldn’t be reunited again.

 

\---

 

_Maine’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing before he straddled the bench in front of Wash to face him._

_“Maine.”_

_The throaty growl indicated approval as the larger man produced a pack of cards, discarded his helmet and dealt each of them hands. Wash smiled at him, arranging his cards in his hand._

_“Probably better to just play as the two of us. Last time we all played spoons, we had to replace the table in the rec room.” Maine nodded, signing a J and Wash shook his head._

_Wash blinked between card plays and he found himself on the ground, snow around him. He could see the Reds and Blues attacking Main—no, he wasn’t Maine anymore. He was the Meta, AI or not. After each volley and blow, Wash winced and blinked away tears as he knew what had to happen to one of the few people he still considered a friend these days. He kept thinking that he was so close to getting out, so close to making it away from all of the problems caused by Project Freelancer. Yet, this group of idiots were literally killing his chances of ever seeing the outside of a prison cell ever again. The Director was clear on his instruction to keep Maine alive, as he still had a large amount of equipment essential to the Project and its inventory. Wash was watching it slip through his fingers as he handed the tow hook to Sarge, signing his own imprisonment papers._

_“What makes you think I’m going to ask for it?” he whispered to no one._

_He heard the guttural yell he could only place as Maine as he went off the edge of the cliff, the same one he had thrown Carolina from all those years before. Poetic. He didn’t expect them to give him an out. He didn’t expect for the people he had terrorized and tracked for the last several months to feel bad for him and take him in. He didn’t expect to be forgiven. His track record didn’t really lend him too many times at redemption. He just wondered what it was he did to deserve the second chance. He knew he never earned it._

 

Wash rubbed his forehead, bidding the dreams away that pounded at his head and muddled his consciousness. The darkness of the room was illuminated only by the clock glaring 3:51 back at him in the cool room. He threw his arm over his eyes, wishing for Maine to leave his thoughts long enough to not feel guilty over playing a role in his death. He had so much blood on his hands at this point that he didn’t know where his own pains ended and the ones he caused began. He just knew that stopping that pain was the first step. Once that first step was taken, he would do what he could to help make it right. The implants tingled for a moment, in a way that he hadn’t felt since Epsilon had been implanted, though most of his memory of the procedure had been wiped of that.

 

\---

_“Wash?”_

_“Yeah Tucker?”_

_“Why did you put a gun to Carolina’s head?”_

_Wash let out a sigh as he prepared what he had been thinking all day since he had dropped the muzzle of the gun away from her helmet. When had he changed? What happened to make it so that the lives of these simulation troopers became more important than those of a former teammate? He knew that he was messed up at this point, but how far down was he planning to go to save them? To save himself?_

_“To be honest Tucker, she was wrong to threaten you and I wanted to ensure that you made it out alive.” Wash gestured for Tucker to sit next to him on the supply crate._

_“Why me? You can’t stand us and I’m pretty sure that you have thought about killing at least one of us from time to time.” Tucker gave a shrug._

_“I don’t know. I think I see potential in you guys. Also, it helps that the lot of you make me feel like I have a family again. I haven’t felt that in a long time. It’s comforting.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Do you know what it’s like to go through life and have everyone you have ever come to care about either hurt you, leave you or both? It’s exhausting. Day in and day out, you pour so much of yourself into the friendships you try to maintain and they make fun of you. They leave you behind when you’re hurt and scared. They attack you and make sure you land yourself in jail. They betray you. They shoot you in the back. They die before you knew that you cared so much about them that you can’t live without them.”_

_“Wash?”_

_“It’s just so fucking hard though, ya know?” Wash dropped his head into his hands, defeated._

_“Wash, you’re okay now though. You have us. We can’t get rid of one another even when we try.”_   
  


_“But am I really okay?”_

_“I think you’re okay.” Tucker’s hand reached over to grab Wash’s. He covered Wash’s hand with both of his own. “I’m pretty sure that no matter what you do from this point out, you’re pretty much stuck with us Wash.”_

_“That’s good to know,” he replied, smiling despite his visor obstructing Tucker from seeing, “it would be nice to have some stability.”_

_“I mean, where are we going to go? Is someone going to take us hostage? That would be so bad for them because they would have to deal with us.”_

_“Yeah.”_

 

\---

 

The next morning, Wash did his best to shove Tucker and Maine from his thoughts, finding the memories of each of them proving to be too much to deal with on top of the situation of being separated from them. Before clicking his helmet into place, he felt the back of his head. When his fingers came back red, he noted he should visit Dr. Grey to ensure whatever she had done to them wasn’t being rejected. He hoped that some irritation and blood was normal, clicking the seals into place on his helmet and steeling himself for another day without half of the chosen family he had grown to care for there with him.

 

He kept thinking as he walked through the base as he rehearsed what he would say to Felix when he demanded their release was an altered part of a speech he had given long ago when asked what he would do when he found the Epsilon unit.

 

“ _What makes you think I’m going to ask for them?”_


End file.
